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<title>Moles/Freckles by motelsamndean (whalesandfails)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910300">Moles/Freckles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesandfails/pseuds/motelsamndean'>motelsamndean (whalesandfails)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:48:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesandfails/pseuds/motelsamndean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has moles and Dean has freckles. And it makes so much fucking sense.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Moles/Freckles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam has moles and Dean has freckles. And it makes so much fucking sense.</p>
<p>Sam’s skin adorned with a single constellation. The warrior, the saint, the brother. <i>Dean polaris. </i>An expanse of an image, from spotted cheek to speckled ankle - it’s why he ran, really, that bone deep awareness that he was made for one person, and one person only. The aching desire for autonomy. Trailing a single finger over calf, shin, thigh. Each point corresponding to a joint nestled deep beneath his brother’s skin. Like he was made to lie beneath Dean, like the chalk silhouette his brother’s dead body is meant to inhabit, like a mirror for Dean to gaze into; he was born for his brother, and his brother alone.</p>
<p>But oh god, <i>Dean.</i> A thousand galaxies upon his skin: over bronzed brow, broad shoulders, the tops of his bony feet. He’s got stars on top of his calloused hands and behind the bend of his knee. A whole illuminated night sky. All the freedom and space Sam has ever dreamed of, there on brother skin. Can trail tongue across eons and lightyears and galaxies divided by hundreds of thousands of miles. Sam never had to run away, not really, Dean was always willing to give him so much more than the whole world. A constellation missing on his sprawling expanse until a mop of hair is tucked securely under chin and fingers holding too tight onto ribs. And nestled there, a smattering of pale pink around emerald eyes, Sam’s north star, guiding him home.</p>
<p>So yeah, Sam has moles and Dean has freckles. The night sky incarnate. The whole motherfucking universe in a ratty motel room off route 12. Of course the world is going to hell.</p>
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